


Emergency Contact

by ladyfoxxx



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Sex Pollen, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfoxxx/pseuds/ladyfoxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I need your help. There's something..." Patrick's trailing hand finds its way under Pete's t-shirt and Pete's breath catches in his throat. He swallows hard before continuing. "Something is wrong with Patrick."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Contact

Pete calls Mikey.

Not because he thinks Mikey will know what to do, or anything useful. He just can't imagine speaking the words aloud to anyone else. He doesn't want to have to explain it because he can't, he doesn't know how, and Mikey has this uncanny ability to just take things at face value. Pete needs some of that right now.

Because right now he's got Patrick sprawled across him; he’s mouthing at Pete's neck, and every inch of his skin burning. Every time Pete tries to get up Patrick whines and latches tighter, clinging to every part of Pete he can. So Pete’s given up on the idea and remained reclined on the bed, making the phone call with Patrick draped over him, while feathering a hand gently through his strawberry blonde hair because it seems to soothe him.

They figured that part out pretty quickly. Touch helps. When Pete's touching Patrick, he stops making those dying noises; the deep almost-growl he was making when Pete let himself into Patrick's apartment, worried when he was a no-show because Patrick is _never_ a no-show. Pete found him in his bedroom, curtains still drawn, sheets pulled tight around the lump of his body in the centre of the bed.

He was making that noise then and it twisted Pete up to hear it, sending his feet padding straight across the floor to kneel by the bed, looking at Patrick with concern, except he couldn't see him. The Patrick he knows wasn't there, just a blank-eyed body snatcher doubled in on himself, and keening desperately.

Until Pete touched him. He pressed quivering fingers to Patrick's red-stained cheek and the noise stopped. Patrick's eyes came open, fixed hazily on Pete's and okay, yeah, _there_ he was.

"Trick, what's wrong?" Pete's voice was shaking even on a whisper.

Patrick tilted his head into the touch, rubbing his cheek on Pete's hand and it took a lot of willpower for Pete not to pull his hand back like he'd been burned, because fuck, he must be doing something wrong. He started to move his hand away but Patrick caught, held it.

"Hurts." Patrick sounded like a little kid, voice raw from groaning, damp breath feathering over the heel of Pete's hand.

"What hurts?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm while inside he was uncoiling in panic.

"Everything," Patrick answered, reaching absently for Pete's other hand and dragging it to his chest. When Pete's fingers met Patrick's chest through the thin layer of his damp t-shirt, Patrick's breath came out in a sigh, his eyes falling shut. "Better."

It wasn't far from there to where they are now, because if two hands were good, arms and legs and chest and thighs are better. Pete let Patrick drag him onto the sheets, coiling their bodies together because he didn't know what else to do. Patrick won’t let him get up and Pete doesn’t want to hear that noise again, the one Patrick made every time he tried to move away. So he lays there, covered in Patrick, nose full of his scent and tries not to get hard.

Patrick is hard. Pete can feel it, pushing against his hip as his phone trills in his ear. Pete bites his lip, fists his hand in the sheets and holds still. Patrick's not still, he's shifting constantly like he can't get comfortable, fingers trailing up and down Pete's side in a way that would tickle if Pete weren't coiled as tight as a spring.

"Pete, hey." There's a smile in Mikey's voice, even though there's probably barely a quirk on his lips.

"Please tell me you're nearby." The words rush out of Pete's mouth. Thank god Mikey answered.

"Depends on where you are."

"I'm at Patrick's."

"I'm nearby. What's going on?" This is why Pete loves Mikey. He gets straight to the point, no bullshit.

"I need your help. There's something..." Patrick's trailing hand finds its way under Pete's t-shirt and Pete's breath catches in his throat. He swallows hard before continuing. "Something is wrong with Patrick."

"Something’s _wrong_?" Mikey twists the word 'wrong' to mean more and fuck, yes, he fucking gets it.

"Yeah." Pete forces the word out on a hiss of air. Patrick shifts on him again, rolling his hips against Pete's and fuck, he can't breathe. He's definitely got a semi now. "Can you come?"

"Right now?"

"Please." Patrick's other hand finds it way under Pete's shirt and he knows Mikey can hear the way his breathing picks up, rough pants bouncing off the receiver.

There's a million questions Mikey should be asking but all he says is, "I'm coming," and hangs up.

Thank god for Mikey fucking Way.

***

Pete sets a mental countdown to Mikey's arrival. It doesn't tick down fast enough.

Patrick's burrowed his way under Pete's t-shirt, the material stretched tight over his head and shoulders as Patrick licks and bites gently across Pete's chest. Every time Pete tries to stop him, gently move his mouth away, Patrick starts whining again and Pete can't go through with it. So he bears it, lies there with Patrick's hot mouth and hot skin all up against him, going from semi to completely hard in no time.

He texts Mikey the location of Patrick's hidden spare key, because there's no way he's going to be able to get up and let him in without carrying Patrick to the door with him. When he hears movement in the hallway, he starts flushing red before Mikey's even made it to the bedroom.

When he appears in the doorway, all weird hair and awkward stance, Pete just wants to kiss him. Somehow just having him here is calming the fizzing panic Pete's got swimming around in his belly.

"Hey," Mikey says, voice sounding way too normal, like there's nothing unusual about Patrick using Pete's shirt as a tent.

"Hey," Pete responds, forcing the word out. He starts to sit up, but Patrick pushes him back down again, sliding out from under Pete's shirt to focus hazily on Mikey. The move leaves Patrick's hair all stuck up and crazy; his lips are pink and wet from all the licking, and his eyes are shot. He looks wild and too fucking beautiful for words. It's a completely alien look on him and Pete doesn't want to think about how Patrick will feel about it later.

Mikey takes it all in immediately; he steps right up to kneel on the bed, one hand going to Patrick's forehead, which Pete already knows is burning, just the same as every inch of Patrick's skin.

"Is he on something?" Mikey asks, eyes searching Patrick's face. Patrick turns into Mikey's hand like a cat, licking at the pulse point on Mikey's wrist.

"I don't think so," Pete says, sitting up, far too aware of his hard-on and his too-tight jeans. "Nothing I know of would do this. Maybe ecstasy but even still, I don't think so."

Mikey bites his lip and starts to take his hand away. He freezes completely when Patrick makes that noise, the agonized whine that undoes Pete. It has much the same effect on Mikey, furrowing his brow together and pressing his lips into a line.

"Shhh," Mikey whispers softly, stroking his fingers down Patrick's red stained cheek. "It's okay. It'll be okay." Somehow the words sound reassuring in Mikey's monotone and Pete really wants to believe them. "Tell us what's wrong. What do you need?"

Patrick doesn't speak. He hasn't said much since Pete arrived, just the odd word here and there, like verbalizing is beyond him. He tucks his head into the crook of Mikey's neck, fingers trailing down his slight chest, grabbing his wrist and pressing Mikey's hand to his crotch. His hips rolls up at the contact and he makes a throaty noise. Not the dying one, no, this is a _good_ noise.

Pete's mouth goes dry, his heart pounding fit to burst, because fuck, _fuck_. There's about a million thoughts swirling through his mind, the topmost one being _Patrick wants to be fucked_ and the rest of them kind of fall over and die in the presence of that one thought.

Mikey meets Pete's eyes over Patrick's head and the image of Patrick's soft form curled into Mikey's angular one is so hot it steals his breath. He fights off an irrational jealousy that he's not the one Patrick's touching.

Pete moves closer, kneeling up behind Patrick and putting a warm hand on his neck. Patrick purrs, shifting backwards until his ass and lower back are pushing against Pete's legs.

"Do you think we should…?" Pete asks, not sure why he's treating Mikey like he's in charge, but he's made more progress in the ten minutes he's been here than Pete's managed all afternoon, that's got to count for something.

Mikey raises an eyebrow and shrugs. So much for having all the answers.

He's still got his hand on Patrick's crotch, and Patrick's still rolling against it, face pressed into Mikey's neck so hard his nose is smushed. Pete feels like he should be doing something, but he's not sure what. Well, not entirely unsure, he knows what Patrick seems to want and it scares him a little just how much he wants to give that to him.

He could. So easily.

He slides the hand he's got on Patrick's neck up to his face, brushing back his hair and turning his chin so he can see Patrick's eyes. They're almost black and he's looking at Pete like he wants to devour him. Pete has to fight a full body shiver. He never thought Patrick would look at him like that, and it's turning his bones to water.

"Trick?" he whispers, hoping for something, anything that makes sense. He's too aware of Mikey's eyes darting between the two of them, gaze heavy and somehow comforting.

"Please," Patrick breathes, leaning towards Pete until their foreheads are touching, his breath feathering over Pete's lips, and fuck if this isn't even hotter than the chest licking. Pete has to close his eyes and dig deep for self control. His eyes flicker sideways, checking in with Mikey like he's looking for permission. Mikey's expression is frustratingly blank, but it's not a 'no' so Pete goes with it, letting his mouth drift closer to Patrick's until Patrick makes a needy noise and closes the distance, pressing their lips together.

It's so different from any other time he and Patrick have kissed, because this time Patrick is kissing Pete, _he's_ starting it. He's doing it like he means it too, soft plump lips pressing against Pete's wetly, mouth sighing open happily until their tongues are stroking. Pete starts to feel light-headed almost immediately, his fingers gripping Patrick's shirt, desperately hanging on.

He breaks the kiss, gasping for air and clawing at his mind for some kind of logic or plan. This is not the way it's supposed to work. Pete's the one who goes off half-cocked, who dives head-first into things with no thought for consequences. Patrick does the thinking, the considering, the risk assessment. Patrick's the one who picks up all the pieces of Pete when his half-baked schemes go wrong and helps him fit them back together.

Pete has to be the Patrick this time. It's Pete's turn to play care-taker and he has no idea how.

Patrick's mouth focuses on Pete's neck again, his tongue stroking over Pete's pulse-point and fuck, Pete's so hard. When Patrick starts unbuckling Pete's belt Pete glances desperately at Mikey, like he'll magically have the answers.

Mikey stares back and blinks, one eyebrow quirking up. No dice.

"Should I... let him?" Pete asks, hands hovering above Patrick's, ready to still them, dreading hearing that noise again.

Mikey shrugs, stroking Patrick's back absently. "It's what he wants," he offers, not sounding all that sure.

"Yeah, he does _now_ ," Pete counters. "But, he won't... later. He'll be fucking mortified." Patrick's having trouble with Pete's belt, but Pete's not going to help him. It buys them a small amount of time to figure out what to do.

"So what, we just leave him alone? Take him to a doctor?" Mikey poses the questions, adjusting his glasses as casually as if Patrick _isn't_ currently trying to crawl into Pete's pants.

"Fuck no." Both options suck. "We can't leave him like this and no way are we taking him outside."

"So what then?" Mikey asks, slumping lower in a way that makes him look extra-angular.

"We take care of him," Pete says, and even as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that's it. That's totally it. It's _his_ turn to take care of Patrick. He's going to give Patrick what he needs.

He presses his palms to Patrick's cheeks, pulling his head up and looking him dead on in his flat, hazy eyes.

"Patrick. Baby. I'm gonna blow you now." His voice only trembles a little, which he's thankful for. Patrick's staring back at him, eyes complete drowning pools, but Pete can see the words register. They get Patrick's head nodding, still breathing sharp and fast as he mutters, "yes," hissing out the 's' long and drawn.

Pete kisses him again for good measure, stroking his tongue inside, letting himself enjoy it because, fuck, if he's going to do this he may as well do it right. It might be the only time he gets to. Patrick probably won't ever speak to him again after this.

He fumbles with the knot on Patrick's sweats, trying to vocalize the hastily drawn plan to Mikey. "I think, maybe if he gets off, you know, it'll fix him. Maybe he just needs to come." He glances up at Mikey, wishing for something more encouraging than the expression he gets.

"Hey, it's worth a shot right?" Mikey offers, not very convincingly. "You want me to...?" He nods towards the door, making Pete's heart backflip in panic, his fingers stilling on Patrick's pants.

"No. Please, can you... stay? I just... its better having you here." Pete couldn't say why for all the money in the world, but he can't help feeling like the tentative hold he's got on the situation will crumble if he loses Mikey.

Mikey, thank Christ, gets it. He nods slowly at Pete, saying, "sure, okay," like Pete just asked him to borrow ten bucks. Then he slides in behind Patrick and strips him out of his t-shirt, just like that, totally on board.

Pete's fighting a grin as he pulls Patrick's pants off all the way, a mild hysteria brewing in his chest at the complete absurdity of what's about to happen. Patrick has no such compunctions, rocking into Pete's hands, flopping backwards to slump in Mikey's lap. Mikey dances his hands all over Patrick's pale chest, and Patrick's practically purring, turning his head and kissing and licking up Mikey's arm.

Fuck, it's so fucking hot to watch Pete can't concentrate; he gets stuck staring until Mikey cocks an eyebrow at him, prodding him verbally. "'Sup Pete, you forget how? I remember you being pretty fucking good at this."

Pete wants to spit back something really witty and biting, but he's running on reserve brain function, which doesn't extend much beyond breathing and hard-on, so he just sticks his tongue out at Mikey. Mikey responds simply by pointing downwards to Patrick's cock, which Pete's eyes immediately latch onto and yeah, okay, fuck so he's seen Patrick naked before, but never like, naked and fuck-ready and Jesus , it's a really fucking mind blowing thing to be witnessing. Up close. Real close and getting closer as he leans down, shuffling down the bed until he can comfortably fit his mouth around Patrick's cock. The gargling happy noise Patrick makes at the move fills him with a mad pride and he concentrates on sucking, moving his tongue, tasting salt and skin and the heavy musk of Patrick's precome.

It's been a long time since Pete's done this and he's not exactly a master. He and Mikey still fuck around occasionally, but it's gotten fewer and far between, as they figured out that the beat they rock to is more friends-with-benefits than long-term love affair. Pete swallows deeply, pressing down until his nose is touching the delicate hairs at Patrick's base and he can feel Patrick right to the back of his throat.

"Breathe through your nose," Mikey says and Pete can't see past Patrick's pelvis but he can _hear_ the smirk in Mikey's voice. He reaches one hand up from Patrick's hip to flip Mikey the bird, but he does suck in a long nasal breath at the reminder.

Patrick's hands find their way to Pete's head, trailing through his hair and sending shivers all down his back. Patrick's being free and easy with the moans, drawn out and musical, as he rocks his hips into Pete's mouth. It's making Pete's eyes water a little but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it. He can't help feeling a little guilty about it, but he fucking _loves_ seeing Patrick like this, all greedy and wild and out of control. He wants to take it further, all the way, feel him come apart under his hands and in his mouth.

He flicks his gaze up to finds Patrick's mouth locked to Mikey's and he nearly loses his rhythm. Mikey's glasses are skewed and his hair's all fucked up. Patrick's is worse, but the look on his face... wow. So blissed out it's like he found god and they're kissing like they need each other to breathe. Their mouths shift slightly and Pete catches a glimpse of tongue. He has to rub his hard-on into the bed, sinking his mouth down on Patrick's cock, breathing hard and just _sucking_.

There's a wet noise when Patrick breaks the kiss, moaning rhythmically, that amazing voice of his ascending higher and higher. His fingers tighten in Pete's hair and Pete's head bounces, using his hands as leverage to move his head faster. Fuck he can feel Patrick pulsing under him, his whole body twitching and writhing under Pete, completely undone.

Pete slides one hand from Patrick's hip to cup and stroke his balls, taking him as deep, moving as fast, sucking as hard as he can. Patrick's voice breaks beautifully as his hips stutter upwards, spilling down Pete's throat until he pulls off coughing, stroking Patrick's dick, slowly bringing him down. Patrick's cheeks are stained red, he's shiny with sweat and his eyes are _glowing_. Mikey brushes a hand gently through Patrick's damp hair, making soothing noises. He glances up from Patrick to look at Pete, lips quirking briefly, a strangely casual almost-smile on his face in spite of his fuck-me eyes. Pete can recognize Mikey's fuck-me eyes anywhere.

"Nice," Mikey says, not even joking.

"Thanks," Pete pants, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and crawling up beside Patrick, leaning on one arm. "Do you think it worked?" he asks, studying Patrick, who's lax and breathing deeply, the urgency of moments before all gone.

"Give him a minute," Mikey says gently, still carding fingers through Patrick's hair, and fuck that looks relaxing. Pete wants some of that treatment. He's feeling touch starved and completely horny, but that's going to have to take a back seat until they figure out what's going on with his lead singer.

Pete leans his head on Mikey's bony knee, shuffling in closer until he's nearly nose to nose with Patrick. He fights down the urgency to just _know_ if it worked already, settling for resting a hand on Patrick's cheek, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone while he waits for Patrick's eyes to open.

They do, eventually. Pete looks deep, smiling with relief when they're not too cloudy.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" he asks softly, waiting for Patrick to tense up and start grumbling. He doesn't. He blinks slowly and fuck if he doesn't have the prettiest eyes _ever_.

"Hey," Patrick repeats back at Pete, licking his lips slowly before leaning in and kissing, no - devouring Pete's mouth.

Pete's got nothing left, he's way too wound up to even try to fight it. He lets Patrick press him onto his back, kissing him for all he's worth. Fuck, his tongue, his _lips_. He can't not do this.

Patrick comes up for air, tugging at Pete's t-shirt and Pete takes the opportunity to squeak, "Mikey?" Somewhat loudly.

"Didn't work, huh?" Mikey responds, so flatly Pete wants to hit him.

Patrick gets the shirt over his head and Pete manages to grab a glance at Mikey, "A little help?"

"Fine," Mikey sighs and gets up from the bed. That's not exactly what Pete was expecting, but he doesn't have time to complain because Patrick's run out of fabric-based distractions and is pressing his tongue back into Pete's mouth enthusiastically. All Pete can do is sink his hands into Patrick's hair and kiss back, reveling in the press of their bare chests together.

He gives himself up to it, writhing on the bed and bucking up against Patrick', who's grinding back down on him and shit, that's some fucking recovery time because Patrick is almost definitely hard again. A happy gurgling noise leaks from their lips and this time it isn't Patrick's.

Pete's lost to everything in the world that isn't Patrick's lips, mouth or body when the bed shifting signals Mikey's return. Pete vaguely hears the plastic snap of a bottle opening and moments later Patrick goes rigid above him.

"Oh. Fuck, yeah," he moans, eyes fluttering. That's three whole words. In a row. Pete leans up on an elbow to try and see what magic Mikey's performing to pull this out of Patrick.

"Mikey, what are you doing?" Pete's voice comes out breathlessly.

"Helping," Mikey says, and Pete cranes his neck far enough to finally see how Mikey's bent over Patrick's ass, one hand hidden between Patrick's cheeks, a look of intent concentration on his sharp features. Pete knows immediately why Patrick's moaning, because Mikey's fingers are long and he's really fucking good with them. "Get his dick," Mikey commands matter-of-factly.

Pete is nothing if not co-operative. He flops back down underneath Patrick, who's moaning pretty much nonstop now, all pink-faced and sweaty and looking like a debauched schoolboy. He slides a hand down between their bodies and yeah, Patrick is definitely hard again, hard and leaking. He presses his other hand to Patrick's cheek and Patrick turns his head into it, drawing Pete's thumb into his mouth. Well fuck, that's a sight to save for the spank bank. Pete's not going to get over this anytime soon.

He starts stroking the slick skin of Patrick's dick, and Patrick's moaning pitches up. He writhes above Pete, sucking hard on Pete's thumb, panting hot breath all over his face and Pete strokes faster.

Patrick makes a needy noise, hitching his hips backwards at Mikey, head dropping down to touch foreheads with Pete. His skin is still burning.

"Mikey, how many fingers?" Pete asks, and not just to form the mental picture in his head, though it's a fucking gorgeous one.

"Two," Mikey answers, then he's leaning over, so Pete can see his face over Patrick's shoulder, all pressed up against Patrick's back. Fucker's still fully clothed too. How is that even possible?

"I think he wants three." Pete says, and Patrick nods into Pete's neck.

"Mmmm, yeah. Three," Patrick agrees, and this is good. They're getting more words now.

If Pete could see Mikey's shoulders, he knows he'd see them shrug. As it is, Mikey says "'Kay," and moments later Patrick goes rigid again, and hits an octave Pete doesn't think he's heard him get to before. Pete speeds his hand on Patrick's dick, feeling the tremble and pulse under his fingers. Patrick falls down onto him, capturing his mouth, desperate and messy and moaning down his throat as he comes apart, stiffening and shooting all over Pete's jeans.

Patrick's body goes liquid, flopping down on Pete like a blanket, chest heaving with deep breaths and Pete almost feels like he got off too, the relief is so intense. Mikey flops down beside him, wiping his hand off on the sheets before stroking down Patrick's back softly and gently. Patrick smiles dazedly into Pete's neck and snuggles closer, reaching a hand out to Mikey, who takes it and presses a kiss to the palm.

"How are you so amazing?" Pete asks, still not quite able to believe how Mikey just came right over and made it all better. "Fuck Mikey, thanks. Really."

"Thank me when it works," Mikey says flatly, but there's a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Pete leans in and presses a kiss to it. Mikey shifts his head slightly sideways, turning it into a real kiss, slipping Pete tongue and _fuck_ Mikeyway is a good kisser.

They get stuck for long moments, the kiss building in intensity. Pete realizes belatedly that this might not be the best idea, since he's already on a knife-edge and he feels like he's been sporting this hard-on forever now. It's pretty awesome though, because on one side he's got Mikey kissing him, stroking his tongue and biting gently on his lower lip and on the other side he's got Patrick all naked and hot and cuddly.

Mikey breaks the kiss first, because he's eminently sensible like that. Pete's breathless by this point, his hips rocking up against Patrick of their own accord. He's so aware of his hard-on right now, pressed down tight and unsatisfying by his jeans and Patrick's weight.

He almost hopes it didn't work.

"If that doesn't do it, I think I might have to fuck him," he tells Mikey, hoping Mikey will try to talk him out of it.

Mikey doesn't, he just says, "Third time might be the charm" softly, like they're sharing a secret. Pete can't fight the grin that crawls across his face. Fuck he's so glad he called Mikey.

They get about ten minutes of relaxed snuggle time before Patrick starts to stir again. Any questions about whether or not he's fixed are answered loudly when Patrick sticks his hand down Pete's jeans, groping for Pete's cock and groaning "Now, Pete. Come on, Please." into his neck. Pete's got nothing for it, he has to do this. There's a bubble of excitement and sheer nerves in his chest, but he's not going to back down. Patrick needs him.

Once he's made the decision in his own mind he can't get his pants off fast enough. He's barely kicked them off his feet when Mikey's handing him a condom and the bottle of lube with a tentative smile. Pete takes them, kissing him thanks and tries to ignore the way his hands are shaking as he strokes on the rubber.

Mikey slides across the bed to Patrick. "Hey Patrick, you've done this before yeah?" he asks, but has to wait for the answer because as soon as he's within range Patrick dives on him, kissing him breathless. Pete has to grab his cock at the base and just hold on for a few moments, because that's seriously delicious to watch and he can't afford a false start right now.

Mikey separates their mouths with a wet noise. "Patrick," he repeats, emphasizing the word slowly. "Have you been fucked in the ass before?"

Patrick nods absently, distracted because he's tugging insistently at Mikey's t-shirt. Mikey sighs briefly and pulls it off, gaining a happy noise from Patrick as he glues himself to Mikey's front. Pete doesn't have time to be jealous of whoever got to Patrick's ass before he did, because Mikey's coaxing Patrick onto his hands and knees and suddenly Patrick's kneeling in front of him, ass forwards like a fucking invitation.

There's more than a little awe in Pete' motions as he grazes fingertips over the pale skin of Patrick's back. It's pretty mind blowing to think that this is finally going to happen. There's no way it could possibly live up to Pete's own fantasies, he's certain, but fuck if that's going to stop him.

He uncaps the lube, dripping some into his hand and stroking it over his dick. Fuck he's so wired, he'll be lucky if he lasts three strokes. He mutters as much to Mikey who flops down onto his back and slides his body under Patrick's.

"I'll get him going," he says, reaching a hand down and pulling a moan from Patrick with what Pete knows first-hand is a top-shelf hand job. The smile on Pete's face is short lived as he coats his fingers with lube and presses them into Patrick's ass.

Fuck, he's so hot and so loose already; he barely needs any prep at all. Patrick groans and shoves back against Pete's fingers. "Pete. Please. Your dick. Now."

There's no way Pete can deny him. He slips his fingers free, taking a deep breath before guiding his cock inside, Patrick pushing back against him eagerly until he's sunk in all the way. His own groan joins Patrick's because _fuck_ that feels so good, so fucking perfect.

"Mikey, how's he?" Pete asks, wishing he could see Patrick's face.

"He's good Pete, real fucking good. Give it to him." Mikey barely gets the words out before Pete slides out and shoves in again, making Patrick writhe back against him deliciously. All rational thought flees then, his body taking over, pushing into Patrick, thrusting home over and over.

"Fuck, he feels amazing." Pete grunts in awe as he bends forward over Patrick, pressing his chest down against the hot skin of Patrick's back and clasping an arm across Patrick's chest.

The noises Patrick's making are guttural and desperately appreciative, vibrating his chest under Pete's arm. Pete's eyes crease up, he presses his face into the curve of Patrick's neck, tasting the salt and sweat of Patrick's skin, needing more, wanting everything. His hips buck forwards, harder, faster and Patrick starts shuddering under him, Pete's name getting mixed up in the increasingly loud and musical moaning he's doing. A hot pride races through Pete, fuck _he's_ doing that to Patrick, _he's_ giving him this pleasure.

The thought alone nearly tips him over.

"Mikey, fuck, I'm not gonna last, I'm, fuck, I'm-" he stutters breathlessly, reaching for Patrick's dick and finding Mikey's hand already on it. He tangles his fingers with Mikey's and they bring Patrick off together, the throb and pulse of Patrick's cock under Pete's fingers pushing him closer and closer to overload.

Pete bites gently into Patrick's shoulder as Mikey arches up off the bed, kissing Patrick full and hard as he speeds their hands over Patrick's cock. The last of Pete's control slips away and he pounds into Patrick's ass, hard and fast and perfect, not stopping until he feels Patrick lose it. And he does, his whole body stiffening as he sings out his orgasm high and loud. Pete feels the pulse and release in his hand as Patrick's ass tightens around him and he's gone too, one last thrust forward as he comes hard, orgasm crashing him down on top of Patrick with a grunt of completion that sounds a lot like Patrick's name.

His whole body is singing with euphoria. He feels _amazing_.

He kisses it into Patrick, who's gone lax and floppy, their bodies twisted awkwardly because Pete's not ready to deal with having to pull out yet. Patrick kisses back, lazy and messy, clutching at Pete's shoulder and moaning softly into Pete's mouth.

Patrick's knees finally give way and he flops boneless onto Mikey, making a three man sandwich. Mikey doesn't make a noise even though he's bearing their combined weight, he just strokes a hand absently down Pete's back and lets Patrick nuzzle into his neck. Pete pulls out reluctantly and climbs off, getting rid of the condom. He rejoins them quickly, curling himself around Patrick's back and resting a warm hand over Mikey's racing heart.

"You're going to have to take the next one." Pete's voice is raw, the words carrying hot over Patrick's shoulder. He feels like he emptied his body out and now there's nothing left inside. "If he needs another one, that is," Pete adds, squeezing tighter around Patrick, and with the way Patrick's skin is still burning hot, he can't help thinking that maybe three wasn't the charm.

Mikey slides his fingers between Pete's, lifting their joined hands to his mouth and pressing a light kiss to Pete's palm. "'Kay," he says quietly, and Pete has to smother his grin into Patrick's neck at Mikey's unshakeable calm.

It becomes apparent fairly rapidly that three is most definitely not the charm. When Patrick starts twitching and rubbing up against them both, Mikey quirks an eyebrow at Pete and extracts himself from the man-pile to finally wriggle out of his jeans. Pete watches him over Patrick's shoulder, because Mikey naked is always a pretty picture. He's hard already and the long limbs and sharp angles of his body should look awkward but there's a grace about him as he crawls back onto the bed that shortens Pete's breath.

Pete steals a kiss from Mikey and sits up, disentangling himself from Patrick, who hasn't stopped grinding on him since his post-orgasm high wore off. He presses his palms to Patrick's cheeks, looking deep, speaking slowly and clearly. "Mikey's going to fuck you now. Is that okay? You want that?"

Patrick nods firmly before pressing close and kissing Pete again, licking inside his mouth and sucking on his lips. It's not as desperate now, it doesn't feel like Patrick needs to devour him this time, but there's still urgency in his kisses. He pauses between deep searching tongue strokes to whisper "please" and "yes" into Pete's mouth, his body leaning close so Pete can feel his swollen cock pressing against his belly again. Fuck, if he hadn't just gotten off minutes ago he's sure he'd be up for it, just from feeling that.

Mikey comes up behind him, pushing his chest into Pete's back, sandwiching Pete between his body and Patrick's. Pete has to break the kiss and just breathe for a moment, savoring the sensation of being pressed in on both sides. Patrick finds Mikey's mouth immediately and Pete gets to watch them kiss, so close he can feel their breath, can almost taste them.

Patrick's hand locks in his hair, dragging his head those few inches closer until he meets their joined lips in a three-way kiss that's messy, wet and mostly tongue. It's awkward, but still delicious and by the time they separate Pete's starting to wonder if what Patrick's got actually _is_ contagious because fuck if he isn't starting to get hard again.

He flops down onto the bed, pulling Patrick down with him. "On his back?" he asks Mikey, getting a nod in reply as Mikey rips open a condom packet. Pete takes the cue to press Patrick horizontal on the soft mattress, giving his dick a few strokes that make him mewl delightfully. Mikey joins them, dick sheathed in rubber and bottle of lube in his hand.

Pete scoots sideways, giving Mikey some room between Patrick's legs . He's still stroking Patrick's dick when Mikey's lubed fingers slip inside Patrick's ass, making Patrick moan and arch up off the bed. Patrick feels too far away, so Pete replaces his own hand on Patrick's dick with Mikey's, who takes over the stroking with a half-smile. Pete returns it with a wide grin and shuffles up the bed to sit behind Patrick, sliding his hips underneath Patrick's shoulders until his upper half is settled in Pete's lap.

Pete likes it here; he can look down at Patrick, see everything he's going through up close and make sure he's okay. He's also got front row seats for everything Mikey's doing to Patrick; at the moment stroking his cock slowly while he works inside him with long, skilful fingers. Mikey glances up at them both and the look on his face is so wicked Pete's breath catches in his throat.

"Pete. Mikey. Please." Patrick groans out the words and Pete strokes his hair absently.

"I think he wants your dick now," Pete translates needlessly.

"No shit," Mikey says, softening the comment with a grin as he slips his fingers free.

He shoves a pillow under Patrick's hips, folding his legs back and Pete can't help holding his breath as Mikey lines up his dick with Patrick's ass. Mikey glances up through his hair to check in with Pete and then Patrick before he pushes home. Pete can feel the shuddering breath Patrick pulls in all up his body, Patrick's hands gripping Pete's knees tight enough to leave imprints as Mikey starts to move, slow but sure. On every forward thrust Patrick's body shoves into Pete's chest and fuck, he can feel everything. He looks down into Patrick's face, all flushed cheeks, messy hair and the most wanton expression Pete's seen him wear.

Pete's fingers slide from Patrick's hair to brush over his plump lips; Patrick's eyes spring open, tongue licking out to find Pete's fingertips, sucking his index and middle fingers right into his sweet mouth. It looks so sinful Pete nearly chokes on his own tongue, forcing his gaze away only to settle on Mikey instead, and the perfect view he has of Mikey's cock driving home inside Patrick. That doesn't do much for his tongue-choking situation because Mikey's looking at Patrick with eyes that could burn him from the inside out.

Luckily, the moan that finds its way out of Pete's mouth is all but drowned out by all the noise Patrick's making. Every time Mikey draws out, Patrick pulls in a shaky breath, only to push it out again on a musical moan with every one of Mikey's forward thrusts. Pete feels like he's getting fucked by proxy, he keeps getting stuck on Patrick's eyes, his mouth, every moan he makes feathering over Pete's hand as Patrick keeps sucking his fingers.

"Fuck. More. Faster," Patrick pants, the words muddled around Pete's hand. Pete looks up, ready to translate, but Mikey's got it; he's already speeding his thrusts, wrapping a hand around Patrick's cock, his fingers long and elegant around the rude red skin of Patrick's dick. Patrick groans louder at the added contact, hips shoving down at Mikey on each stroke. Mikey leans forward on his free arm, pressing his face into Patrick's neck as he fucks and jerks him off simultaneously. Pete has to bite down on his own lip, stroking his fingers down Patrick's neck and up over Mikey's back. Fuck, they are both fucking _beautiful_.

"Fuck, Pete. He feels fucking _amazing_ ," Mikey groans breathlessly, hips snapping sharply forwards and Pete can only agree.

"I fucking know," he states, voice awed, vision full of Patrick, who's eyes are slit closed, his mouth pure pornography around Pete's fingers.

Mikey starts to keen low in his throat and Pete knows he's close. His movements get sharper and faster and Patrick's arching in Pete's lap, biting and licking at Pete's fingers, moaning nearly non-stop and every note is sending shivers up Pete's spine.

"Pete," Mikey warns breathlessly, sounding panicked and _so fucking close_.

"He's nearly there, come on, just a little more," Pete tells him, trying for encouraging but sounding desperate. He slips his fingers out of Patrick's mouth, pressing them across his forehead and staring down at him. "Come on, Trick. Let it out," he whispers and Patrick's eyes slam open, locking on Pete's as his whole body stiffens and he groans out his orgasm, loud and long.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Mikey moans over it, shoving into Patrick fast and hard, a hiccupping moan tearing from his mouth as he comes, shaking, inside Patrick. He stays perched over Patrick and breathes desperately for long moments, before his arm finally gives away and he collapses onto Patrick's waiting body.

Pete can't help the content smile that crawls over his face as he strokes gentle fingers over Patrick's face and down Mikey's fucked-up hair. It's so surreal. He just watched two of his best friends fuck and it was fucking _awesome_.

He extracts himself from Patrick's delicious weight, scooting down the bed to curl his body around them both in a wide hug. Mikey pulls his head out of Patrick's neck long enough to giggle at him and hug back. Mikey always gets giggly after orgasm, it's so completely unexpected and adorable; Pete will never get tired of it.

Patrick's so quiet and still Pete starts to wonder if he's asleep, but when he runs a finger lightly down his cheek Patrick's eyes spring open instantly and he gives Pete a lazy smile. Pete squeezes him harder, feeling ridiculously elated, wishing he could bottle this moment. He'll probably need it later, whenever Patrick comes back to himself.

God, he hopes he does. As wonderful as having a fuck-ready, desperately slutty Patrick is, he misses his normal, sensible, slightly grumpy Patrick a lot. A whole lot.

Feeling suddenly scared, he rolls Patrick into his arms and clasps him close to his chest.

"Fuck, Mikey. What if he doesn't... ?" He can't even finish the sentence. Patrick's breath feathers over Pete's arm and Pete presses his lips to the back of Patrick's neck protectively.

"He will," Mikey says matter-of-factly, and even though Pete knows that Mikey has no more knowledge on the situation than he does, he can't help but believe him.

He rolls it around in his head, eyelids getting heavier, drifting off into something like sleep until Patrick shakes him awake. He has no idea how much time passed but Patrick's keening at him, and there's an edge to his voice that sounds too much like the needy hurting groans Pete remembers from this afternoon. Fuck. Have they really not come that far at all?

He pulls Patrick against him, wrapping his arms around him and trying for as much skin to skin contact as he can possibly achieve. Mikey's out, face-planted into the pillow and Pete nudges him with his foot until he drags his head up, looking sleepy and mussed.

"He's getting bad again," Pete explains, one hand curled around the back of Patrick's head as Patrick licks around Pete's neck.

"Fuck," Mikey curses, pushing himself to his knees and crawling over to join them. He presses himself flat up against Patrick's back, making Patrick's breath sigh out even as his brow furrows further, hips shoving against Pete and fuck, he's hard _again_. "What now?" Mikey asks, over Patrick's shoulder.

"Do you think you could fuck him again?" Pete asks hopefully.

"Jesus, a little recovery time dude," Mikey complains and Pete has to agree. Though, the way Patrick's writhing up against him, he's pretty sure it won't take him that long. Still, it might be too long for Patrick. Unless...

"Trick? Hey Patrick?" He fixes his hand in Patrick's hair, pulling his head up, finding Patrick's eyes huge and dilated. "You want to fuck me, Patrick?" Even though he knows the answer will no doubt be in the affirmative, he can't help the way his heart skips at the question. It's kind of a big deal to offer this, but if it'll help at all, he's going to. And fuck, he really fucking wants to.

Patrick's mouth twitches into a smile and he's kissing his answer into Pete's lips. "Yeah. Fuck yes." Whispering it over and over into Pete's mouth between swipes of his tongue and sucking on Pete's lips. Pete lets himself fall into it, feeling his cock waking up, barely hearing Mikey's doubtful response.

"You sure that's a good idea, Pete? He's not really... himself. He might, you know, get carried away."

Pete pulls his mouth off Patrick's long enough to stutter out an answer while Patrick redirects his mouth back to Pete's neck, fuck he's going to be covered in hickeys when this is over. "You'll help, right? It'll be fine."

Mikey snorts and shakes his head, making his hair wiggle. "You're fucking insane, you know that?" but he crawls across the bed to find the lube anyway, coming back to slide up behind Pete and press a condom into his hand.

It becomes very real very quickly when Pete has to push Patrick's body away from his and find his dick, shaping him with his hand before ripping the packet open with his teeth. Patrick's smiling at him, lips all wet and plump from kissing, right up until the point when Pete tightens his hand enough to pull a needy groan from him. Then Pete's the one smiling. God, he won't ever tire of touching Patrick like this and bathing in every one of his reactions.

The smile falls from Pete's lips as Mikey's hands find him, familiar calluses running gently over his ass cheeks before one of Mikey's slick fingers starts to stroke gently around his hole. Pete groans and captures Patrick's mouth again, his hand clutching a-rhythmically at Patrick's dick as he struggles for the brain capacity to finish his task.

Mikey's lips are wet on Pete's neck when the first finger slides in. Pete breaks the kiss, stuttering out a groan and he can feel Mikey smile against his skin.

"Been a while, hey?" Mikey asks.

"You should know," Pete chokes out, breath coming in erratically. "You're the only one with a current backstage pass."

"Not for long." Mikey grins, adding another finger, and Pete's not sure if the groan he lets out is from the thought or the movement or both. Either way, it's fucking sublime and he's already on his way to hard again. Mikey is too, from the way he's pressing into Pete's back, his hot breath feathering over Pete's neck and shoulder.

"You should get that condom on him or he's never gonna be able to fuck you," Mikey says hotly and Pete's brain might just melt from that. Fuck, Mikey can talk sin when he wants to.

Pete finally gets the condom on Patrick, not helped at all by the way Patrick keeps shifting and writhing at every touch. Mikey slips a hand between them, stroking lube over Patrick's dick and if Pete wasn't hard already, that would've done it.

Patrick bucks up into Mikey's hand, moaning sweetly and Pete has to kiss him again, sucking Patrick's tongue into his mouth, desperate and messy.

"You want three?" Mikey whispers into his ear warmly. Pete can only choke out a yes against Patrick's lips, pulling Patrick tighter until he's rubbing his lubed dick all over Pete's stomach. Pete groans loudly into Patrick's mouth at the stretch when Mikey adds a third finger, fuck Mikey's hands were fucking _made_ for this.

He has to pull his mouth free and pant, "Fuck, Mikey. You're killing me."

"You asked for it," Mikey argues, twisting his fingers in a way that shoots heat down Pete's spine, straight to his dick. He bucks forward into Patrick, groaning into his neck throatily. Patrick's fingers crawl up Pete's sides, over his chest, fitting his hands around Pete's face, forcing his gaze up.

"Pete, come on. I wanna fuck you, already," Patrick demands and fuck, that’s like, whole sentences now. Maybe it _is_ wearing off, whatever _it_ is.

Mikey takes the cue, slipping his fingers out of Pete's ass and sliding out from behind him. Pete's a bit overloaded from all the sensation, so he lets Mikey ease him down onto his back and press his legs up off the bed, pushing a pillow beneath his hips and opening him up for Patrick. Patrick looks hungry, he's eyeing Pete like a meal, color high, skin shiny with sweat. Pete watches as Mikey slides up behind Patrick, coaxing him into place with firm hands and soft kisses. Pete finally gets a proper look at Mikey and he was so fucking right, he's totally hard now, his dick shiny at the tip. Pete has to grab his own cock and stroke it lazily. Fuck, he feels so _empty_.

The first press of Patrick's cock at his ass can't come too soon, Mikey's hand on Patrick's hip guiding him. Christ, it's like being fucked by both of them at once, it's Patrick's dick but moving at Mikey's pace, somehow familiar and yet totally new. Patrick's cock isn't as long as Mikey's, but it's fatter and it's stretching Pete in all the best ways.

Pete's groan starts deep in his chest, chasing heat up his neck and into his cheeks. Patrick comes forward, guided by Mikey until he's leaning on one elbow, face hovering over Pete's, staring him down. Pete arches up off the bed, claiming Patrick's mouth and shoving down on his cock. Fuck, he's gonna hurt tomorrow but right now he only wants more, he wants to feel Patrick all through him.

And Mikey was worried about _Patrick_ getting carried away.

Patrick groans and rolls his hips up, rocking into Pete. Pete's still got a loose grip on his dick, and he firms it, stroking in time with Patrick's thrusts, which are slow, way too slow. He knows Mikey's controlling this, it's a total Mikey rhythm, and when he glances over Patrick's shoulder he can see Mikey's hands firm on Patrick's hips, steadily guiding him, his fuck-me eyes burning at Pete.

Jesus, this thing's got to be contagious.

Pete closes his eyes, letting his head drop back on the pillow as Patrick drives home, frustratingly slow, until they're both groaning with effort.

"Mikey, fuck, come on," Pete grits out, desperate for something harder, for a real fucking pounding.

"Wait." Mikey's voice pitches up from his usual monotone, and if Pete wasn't working on reserve brain function that level of inflection from Mikey would be notable. "I have an idea."

Pete doesn't want ideas, he wants some real fucking movement already. Patrick's not holding up too well either, he's straining against Mikey's hands, cooing little needy noises at Pete that are slowly unpicking his brain.

"I should fuck Patrick again," Mikey offers, sounding like he's just come up with the solution for world peace or some shit.

"Fuck, yeah, whatever, later," Pete whines. "Mikey, come _on_."

"No, I mean now. I should fuck him now. While he's fucking you."

Pete loses his breath at the words. He forces his gaze over Patrick's shoulder, locking on Mikey's face and he is so fucking serious Pete has to tighten his grip on his cock and just _hold_.

He fixes his eyes on Patrick. Patrick, who's still rubbing and writhing, kissing up Pete's neck and across his face like he can't get enough. Fuck, maybe it'll work, maybe they just need to overload him completely, fuck this thing right out of him.

"Trick," he whispers, catching fingers in Patrick's hair and locking their eyes. "You want Mikey to fuck you?"

"Fuck, Pete. Anything. Everything. Just, more okay?" Patrick's voice sounds almost normal; he could be ordering dinner or discussing song lyrics, so Pete believes him. Patrick drops down and takes Pete's mouth again, kissing him deep and desperate. He pulls off with a wet noise groaning, "I wanna fucking come." Fuck, Pete can totally relate.

"Make it quick Mikes, I'm not gonna last and I don’t think he is either." Pete's voice is so rough and throaty, it's almost alien.

"That's the whole idea." Mikey half-smiles, already ripping open a new condom.

Pete closes his eyes, fingers feathering through Patrick's hair as he concentrates on being still. He does better than Patrick, who twitches and moans and kisses him breathless, right up until he stiffens and groans deep into Pete's mouth.

"Fuck, Mikey. Your cock, _please_ ," Patrick begs, because of course Mikey would use his fingers first, just to make sure, even though Patrick's been fucked so many times tonight It's completely unnecessary.

"Jesus, Mikey, come _on_ ," Pete groans, so fucking ready for the next part he can't even deal.

"So fucking impatient," Mikey grumbles, but his voice is breathless and Pete knows he's barely hanging on himself. They're all so fucking eager; it's so close he can taste it.

He claws a hand into Patrick's hair, kissing him deeply and he feels it run all the way up Patrick's spine when Mikey finally pushes home. He and Patrick groan, and it vibrates down Pete's body. Mikey takes a long breath, and then he starts to move, pulling out and pushing in and every long slow thrust is echoed by Patrick, making him rock into Pete as Mikey moves inside him. It feels fucking amazing, and that's before Mikey reaches between them to stroke Pete's dick.

Pete lets out a guttural moan, before locking his mouth to Patrick's and being ridden, letting Patrick fuck him as Mikey fucks Patrick and jesusfuckingchrist it's intense. Slow, so slow it's maddening, making sweat spring from every pore as Pete gives himself up to it.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Mikey mutters, the word coming out hard on every thrust. Patrick's groaning deep in his chest and it rumbles through Pete's body. Fuck, it's not enough, he wants _more_.

"Mikey, fuck. Faster, please," Pete pleads.

"Please," Patrick echoes, pushing the words into Pete's neck.

"Fuck." Mikey sounds like he wants to complain, but he complies, rocking into Patrick faster, pushing Patrick into Pete and fuck, it's almost enough.

Pete presses his mouth to Patrick's, drowning in his taste, gurgling moans leaking into the kiss every time Patrick drives home. Patrick kisses him hard and dirty, teeth and tongues sliding as his cock slides inside Pete and fuck, he's going to overload.

He pulls his mouth from Patrick's, whining, "Mikey." And that seems to do it. Mikey finally unlocks, shoving into Patrick fast and satisfying, making Patrick arch and buck, his voice rising higher and higher. Pete locks his mouth onto Patrick's neck and bites down, bathing in the sound, in every push of Patrick's cock as Mikey's hand strokes him expertly.

There's no way he's going to last. One more shove of Patrick's hips, one twist of Mikey's hand and he's coming, hard, whiting out, howling, shaking and shooting weakly onto Patrick's belly. He barely sucks in a breath before Patrick loses it too, pumping hard into Pete until his body stiffens, his cock pulsing as he cries out his release. Pete locks a hand in Patrick's sweaty hair, tucking Patrick's head into his neck as he pants heat into Pete's skin, still shaking from it.

Mikey's not far behind, and Pete has to watch, his eyes devouring every line of Mikey's body as he jacks into Patrick, keening out his desire as his eyes crease closed and his hips go elastic.

"Come on, Mikey," Pete encourages, voice raw. He's still getting aftershocks every time Mikey's hips shove forwards and fuck, he just wants to see Mikey lose it already. Three more strokes and Mikey does, head dropping back as he shouts out his orgasm, cock shoving home one last time.

He melts down onto Patrick and Pete feels the muscles in the backs of his legs starting to protest. Fuck, he's going to be sore tomorrow. It'll be so worth it though. He puts up with the strain for as long as he can, because the feel of all that weight on top of him is delicious, but it isn't long before he has to grumble and shove Mikey's shoulder until he moves.

Mikey giggles at him, pulling out of Patrick and continuing to beam giddily at Pete as they set about cleaning up. Patrick's gone completely boneless; not unconscious, but not terribly responsive either. He barely makes a noise when Pete strips the condom off him, snuffling into the pillow, hardly able to keep his eyes open. He looks so sweet, sleepy and content, that it makes Pete's heart clench.

"Do you think it worked this time?" he asks Mikey, filling his vision with Patrick and hoping hard. He brushes gentle fingers down Patrick's cheek, and Patrick stirs enough to nuzzle his fingers before closing his eyes again.

"We'll have to wait and see," Mikey says, flopping onto his back. "Fuck, I could sleep for a week."

Pete "mmmph"'s in agreement, curling himself around Patrick and thinking that sounds like a damn good plan. He barely registers Mikey pressing up against his back and throwing an arm over him before he falls asleep.

***

It's dark as pitch when Pete stirs, not sure what’s bringing him out of his sex-induced coma. He blinks slowly in the darkness, trying to find a focal point until he becomes aware of his hands, resting lightly on Patrick's back.

Patrick's skin feels... normal. For the first time since he walked into Patrick's bedroom today his skin isn't fever-hot to the touch. This has to be a good sign... right?

Pete's hands slip higher, pressing his palms gently over Patrick's cheeks, his neck, his forehead, keeping his touches soft because Patrick's sleeping and he doesn't want to wake him.

It's the same all over. The fever is gone.

Pete sighs deeply, relief warring with a heady feeling of disappointment that has him feeling so fucking guilty he can't even start on the internal repercussions.

He folds his arms around Patrick in the darkness, hugging him close, savoring the feel of him naked and relaxed and pressed against him, because he'll probably never get this again. Fuck, he is so not looking forward to the next part.

Pete shuffles down the bed, risking a soft kiss, just to feel Patrick's lips under his again, one last time. Patrick stirs, making a small noise and shifting in Pete's arms. Pete freezes, heart pounding fast, screaming at himself because shit-fuck-damn he's not _allowed_ this anymore. This is out of bounds now and he hates that so much.

He presses his eyes closed, holding still and hoping his crazed heartbeat doesn't shake Patrick awake. It doesn't, thankfully; Patrick sleeps on, nuzzling into Pete's neck and Pete pets his hair softly, breathing in his scent and listening to his relaxed breaths.

He stays awake as long as he can.

***

The next time Pete regains consciousness, he's shaken awake by frantic movement. When he peels gluey eyes open he can see Patrick huddled on the far side of the bed, sheet pulled up to his chin, discomfort written all over him.

The sheets next to Pete are still warm. Looks like everything's back to normal.

Well, normal except for the whole part where he and Mikey fucked Patrick's brains out last night.

"Hey," Pete says, voice sounding rusty and broken. "You remember anything?"

Patrick drags his gaze from his careful study of the sheets to find Pete's face. He barely meets Pete's eyes before re-fixing his gaze to the sheets. "I remember everything," he says, voice hollow.

Pete starts to move and immediately regrets it. He's not sure what hurts more, every muscle in his body or having to look at Patrick all broken. He decides firmly that it's the latter and forces his protesting muscles into action, crawling across the bed to slip an arm around him.

"Jesus, Pete." Patrick presses a hand over his eyes and folds even further in on himself. "Naked, remember?"

Right, yeah. Because this is a _problem_ now. Pete shakes his head, still spinning at just how different things are, but he climbs off the bed and searches around on the floor until he finds his jeans, and Mikey's, and Patrick's sweats. Patrick takes the pants when he hands them to him, shuffling around under the sheets to dress, cheeks going pink and not in that hot way from yesterday, this is just plain old ordinary embarrassment.

Pete wriggles into his own jeans and throws Mikey's at his head. Mikey barely stirs from where he's still slumped out, sleeping on top of the sheets, all naked skin on show. Pete shakes his shoulder until he makes a protesting noise and finally opens his eyes.

"What?" he groans, before smushing his face back into the pillow.

"Put your pants on. You're making Patrick uncomfortable." Mikey glares at him, but does as he's told, thankfully waiting until his man-parts are safely hidden before addressing Patrick.

"Does that mean you're better? How are you feeling?" Mikey asks, voice gentle in the way he usually only reserves for Gerard, or Pete on a downer.

It works on Patrick too. He finally fixes his eyes on them, looking way too tired. "Sore. And... fuck. Can we not talk about this? Can you guys just... go? Please?" Patrick asks desperately, and fuck, the word 'please' from Patrick is never going to sound the same to Pete's ears ever again.

It's not the right plan. Pete's not leaving, not yet. He slides back over to Patrick's side, clasping an arm around him, and Patrick lets him this time, though he doesn't pretend to look happy about it.

"We're not leaving 'til we know you're okay, right Mikey?" Pete says, with more confidence than he feels, and Mikey nods his assent.

"I'm not okay," Patrick states. "But I still want you to go."

"No. No way. Talk first. What's wrong? You angry with us?" Pete tries to slip his fingers between Patrick's, but Patrick keeps pulling them loose.

"I'm not angry with you, Pete." Patrick presses a hand over his eyes, sighing heavily. "I'm just..." Another sigh and Patrick's fingers work at his temples like he's got a headache coming on. "I'm just angry. I'm angry at _me_."

"But you didn't do anything," Pete argues.

"Fuck, Pete, I did _everything_. I was completely out of control." Patrick sounds tired.

Pete reaches up and peels Patrick's hand away from his eyes, wanting to see them, see _him_ properly, now that he's himself again. "You weren't _you_ , yesterday," he explains patiently. "There was something else going on, you were high, or sick, or something, but it wasn't you."

"I remember it _all_ , Pete. I was totally aware of everything I was doing, I just... didn't care." Patrick tugs his hands free from Pete's again and presses his palms over his eyes. This isn't going well.

"So we had sex. Big deal." Pete shrugs even though he knows Patrick can't see him.

"It _is_ a big deal, Pete." Patrick drops his hands from his eyes, wringing them together in his lap. "It's a big deal for me, anyway."

Pete can't help shooting a sideways glance at Mikey, like he'll be able to help, even though Pete has no clue how. Mikey being Mikey, his idea of helping is rolling off the bed and muttering "I'm gonna go see if I can figure out the coffee machine,” completely abandoning Pete. The fucker.

"Hey." Pete catches Patrick under the chin with his thumb, finally meeting his green eyes. They're clear and focused; Patrick is totally present. "You know, having sex with you was kind of a big deal for me, too."

Patrick lets out a short huff, his lips twisting into an ugly smirk. "Yeah, I could totally tell by the way you brought your boyfriend along for a three way."

"Is that what you..." Pete trails off when Patrick fixes him with a bitter glare. "Mikey!" he calls toward the bedroom door. "Mikey, come back a minute."

Mikey leans heavily in the doorway a moment later, holding a coffee scoop. "What?"

"How would you define our relationship?"

"Jesus Pete, it's too early in the morning," Mikey whines, rubbing at one of his eyes like the question makes his head hurt.

"Would you call us boyfriends?" Pete simplifies.

"Um, yeah - _no_. We tried that, remember? Didn't take," Mikey states, swaying slightly in the doorway and giving him a coffee starved _is that all?_.

"Thanks," Pete says dismissively. Mikey rolls his eyes and shuffles back towards the kitchen.

"See?" Pete directs the question back at Patrick, but Patrick stubbornly does _not_ see.

"Fuck, Pete, I just... I don't get you. Why did you call him then, if you guys aren't a thing?"

"Mikey will always be the first person I call in a crisis. Well, after you, but I couldn't call you because you _were_ the crisis." Patrick shoots Pete a cutting look, but Pete continues regardless. "Dude, he's been dealing with Gerard his _whole life_. Nothing phases him."

"So you needed Mikey around to deal with the idea of having sex with me?" Patrick's brows furrow together and he looks so pained Pete's heart hurts.

"No, you fucker. I've been dealing with the idea of having sex with you since you were like... sixteen. It's just, until yesterday it was always a bad idea." Pete tries to say it matter-of-factly but his voice still breaks a little, giving him away.

"A _bad_ idea?" Patrick asks slowly, like this is all news to him.

"Oh fuck off Patrick, I've been hitting on you forever, and yesterday was the first time you hit back. I'm sorry I don't have more self control but fuck, don't ask me to forget about it, and don't expect me to regret it because I fucking don't." The words come out in a rush and Pete knows he's probably gone too far, but fuck if he cares. It's all truth and it's time for him to be honest.

Patrick stares at him, mouth open like he wants to say something but his jaw got stuck. When his words finally come out, they're stumbling and staccato. "Pete, but... You only fucked me because I was out of my head."

"That is so completely not true and I can prove it to you right now," Pete defies, already inching closer to Patrick on the bed and fuck he hopes he's reading this right.

"Pete," Patrick warns, in what's supposed to be his 'fuck-off, Pete' voice, except it's too throaty and shaky to carry off.

"Count of three. Two."

"Pete." The fuck-off tone is completely gone now and Patrick just sounds panicky.

"One." Pete finishes, leaning in slowly, giving Patrick plenty of time to pull back and move away, but he doesn't, he just sits there, letting Pete's face get closer and closer until they're a breath apart. Pete's heart is beating so hard he's worried he might pass out because fuck, its real this time, it's really Patrick and they're really doing this.

He hovers for a moment too long, because Patrick's the one who closes the last half inch, pressing his lips hesitantly to Pete's and it's fucking _heaven_. It's not the wild abandon of yesterday, Patrick's lips are soft on his, moving gently and slightly methodically, but that just jazzes Pete even more because it’s really fucking Patrick this time.

Pete rests his hands on Patrick's shoulders, nearly sighing with relief when Patrick's hands slide up his back to lock around his neck, pulling their bodies closer until their chests are touching. He lets himself sink into the kiss then, welcoming the press of Patrick's tongue in his mouth, letting his body rock towards Patrick's until they're sliding against each other. It's slow and gentle and so fucking hot his poor overworked dick is twitching in his pants already.

Patrick eases him down onto his back, and he goes willingly, letting Patrick take the lead until he's laying underneath him, their legs scissored, their crotches deliciously aligned. Pete rocks hips up against Patrick and Patrick grinds down on him lazily, kissing him the whole time, slow and molten.

Pete's so lost he doesn't register movement in the room until Mikey's cleared his throat loudly three times.

"Is he regressing?" Mikey asks, making Patrick pull back and, climb off Pete. Mikey's leaning in the doorway, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands and looking about ninety percent more human.

"No, he's fine," Pete says with a grin, sad to lose Patrick's lips, but glad he's acting like himself again. "I'm just _that_ charming." Patrick rolls his eyes at him, but his hand is sitting over his on the bedspread and when Pete squeezes his fingers, Patrick squeezes back.

"Good for you," Mikey says with a half-grin, pushing himself off the wall and bending awkwardly to dig through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds his shoes, socks and Anthrax t-shirt. He slides his coffee onto the bedside table and sits down to pull his clothes back on. "I'm gonna head out" he explains, "since it looks like the crisis is over."

"Crisis? What crisis?" Pete jokes, making Mikey shake his head and shoot him his best withering look.

"You're all right, yeah? You're not gonna like... kill each other when I leave or anything?" Mikey asks, glancing between them.

Pete glares in lieu of words.

"Just asking," Mikey defends, holding his hands up, palms-first. He starts to get up, stiff movements betraying his own post-sex-marathon discomfort.

Patrick moves before Pete does, grabbing Mikey's arm and pulling into a hug. "Thanks for coming. Really." A brief flash of surprise flickers over Mikey's features before he lets himself be enfolded, meeting Pete's eyes over Patrick's shoulder as he flattens his palms against Patrick's back. Pete's pretty certain he'll never tire of seeing those two together, in any form.

Mikey's mouth pulls into a lop-sided smile as he tells Patrick, "Anytime." He starts to pull back but Patrick catches him at the back of the head, pressing a brief kiss to Mikey's lips before he lets him go. Mikey's eyes fall shut ever so briefly, and Pete's pretty sure he's not the only one in the room reliving some moments from yesterday.

Patrick's cheeks are tinged with red when he drops back onto the bed. Mikey gives Pete a one armed hug, nodding at Pete's whispered "thanks" into his ear. He pointedly places the open box of condoms on the bedside table on his way out saying, "There's still a few left, but you're gonna want to re-stock soon. I'll let myself out."

He smiles wickedly behind his glasses before slipping out the door with no fanfare at all.

Patrick is curled warmly around Pete's side before they hear the front door slam. "You know," he says thoughtfully, "I wouldn't be against having him join us again, like, when I 'm not out of it."

Pete tries not to look too shocked while his dick proceeds to try and leap off his body. "Really?" he asks, his voice coming out way too high. Patrick shrugs in a _why not?_ kind of way and Pete has to kiss him right _now_ , pressing him back onto the bed and climbing on top of him.

He comes up for air, clasping their hands together and grinning down at Patrick.

"Okay, deal. But I get you to myself first, at least for a few times." He breathes the words hotly into Patrick's mouth before kissing him again, losing his train of thought when Patrick writhes up against him.

"Only a few times?" Patrick challenges him between kisses, his eyes warm, his mouth wet and swollen.

"As many as you want, fucker," Pete promises and Patrick stares up at him with his fuck-me eyes until he can't breathe anymore.

Suddenly they're both wearing too many clothes.

There's still an edge of yesterday's urgency, but the rush isn't as frantic. Pete takes his time peeling Patrick's sweats down and off, pressing kisses all up and down his pale legs on the way. Once Pete's jeans are off they spend long minutes just kissing, rolling naked against each other and reveling in all the skin against skin contact. It's maddening and delicious and Pete's sure he'll never get enough of Patrick's skin, his mouth, his tongue.

He skates a hand slowly down Patrick's chest, over his belly to rest on his dick that's straining between them.

"Fuck, Patrick," he pants, "You want to fuck me? Or you want me to fuck you?" Pete's mind swims with endless possibilities and combinations because there's no deadline on this anymore, they could do _anything_ and he wants to try it all.

When Patrick doesn't answer, Pete stills, a tiny siren sounding in his head. "Patrick?" he asks carefully, staring down at him, but Patrick's eyes are closed so he can't tell what's going on in his head.

"Pete, just... slow down a little. It's not like yesterday, okay? I'm not..." Patrick's voice catches and the way he's got his eyes scrunched closed, like he can't bear to look at Pete, makes his heart hurt.

"Hey, hey," Pete coos, snaking his hands up Patrick's body to shape his head. "We can do slow. We can go backwards if you want, whatever okay? You want me to put my clothes back on? I will."

"Pete." There's a note of warning in Patrick's voice, but at least his eyes are open now.

"I mean it," Pete says, adding his best charming smile. "I don't want to fuck this up, okay? I know we sorta jumped in at the deep end, but we can totally go swim in the kiddie pool if you want."

"Pete." Patrick shakes his head quickly, the way he does when he's trying to get his thoughts straight. "I don't want to go back to the kiddie pool. It's just, what we did, that was a lot. Like, a _lot_ , and... I just... I'm not like that."

"Dude, I know that." Pete shakes his head; god Patrick can be dense sometimes. "I'm pretty sure I would've picked up on you being like, a porn star, by now."

"Pete," Patrick warns, narrowing his eyes and he totally nails his 'fuck off Pete' voice this time.

Pete leans down and kisses Patrick, gentle and slow. When he brings his head up, Patrick's expression has softened and his eyes have gotten their sex-glow back. "Okay, so yesterday was kind of awesome, but let me tell you something. _This_ is so much fucking better."

He punctuates the statement by kissing Patrick again, and when Patrick's lips lock onto his, he knows he's getting through. He gives Patrick his tongue, swallows his moan and sinks into him. When he comes up for breath he brushes his nose against Patrick and whispers, "It's so much better, because I know it's you." He kisses him again, rocking down on Patrick slowly and Patrick rolls up to meet him. He slides his fingers down Patrick's side, over his stomach, resting his hand gently over Patrick's cock.

"And I know _this_ ," he closes his fingers around Patrick's erection, making Patrick draw in a shaky breath, "Isn't because you're sick, or there's something wrong with you. It's for me. And that's so fucking hot." He gives Patrick a gentle stroke, watching as his eyes fall closed and he bucks into Pete's hand. Fuck, he's not kidding, having Patrick like this, himself but _touchable_ , himself but _fuckable_ is so many different colors of amazing. "So fucking hot," he repeats on an awed whisper.

"Yeah?" Patrick pants, squirming under his touch, cheeks starting to darken.

"Fuck, yeah," Pete confirms, leaning down to take his mouth again. Patrick kisses him hard, licking into his mouth as Pete firms his grip on Patrick's cock, feeling the skin slickening with precome beneath his hand. He keeps his strokes agonizingly slow until Patrick's moaning and twisting beneath him, thrumming with need. Fuck, he could do this for hours; his own cock is untouched and he's grinding it absently into Patrick's hip, but he doesn't even care, he just wants to keep watching Patrick, keep drawing those noises out of him, keep feeling his lips and tongue.

He wants to watch him come apart again, see if he looks the same when he loses it as he did yesterday. He quickens the pace of his hand, suddenly desperate for it, like an addict searching for that elusive high.

Patrick's little gasping moans start to pitch up and Pete knows he's got him. So he's completely surprised when Patrick closes his hand over Pete's, stilling his movements firmly.

"Wait," he pants.

"What?" Pete stills his hand immediately, starting to pull away. "I'm sorry, did I-"

"No, I just.." Patrick stumbles over the words, breath harsh, "It's good, I just want... Can you fuck me, Pete?"

Pete pulls in one long breath and waits for that one to sink in. He tries really hard to snapshot it in his mind, because that's a fucking memory right there, one for keeps.

"Of course, yeah." The words come out in a rush. "Fuck, are you sure? I mean, are you okay to...?" Pete doesn’t finish the sentence but the rest is obvious.

"I'm okay. I mean like, don’t go crazy, but yeah. I want to." Patrick's smile is unsteady, but it's so beautiful Pete has to kiss it, pressing deep, slipping his tongue in and showing Patrick exactly what he's doing to him.

He fumbles one-handed at the bedside for lube and another condom from the ever-dwindling supply. Patrick watches him as he coats his fingers with lube, managing to spill it everywhere because _fuck_ that's intense.

He leans up over Patrick on one elbow, stroking a finger between his ass cheeks as he lowers his head to rest his forehead on Patrick's. Gently, oh so gently, he rubs a fingertip around his opening and drinks in every twitch on Patrick's face as he slips it inside. Patrick bites his lip, breathing deeply, eyes fluttering closed, then open, then closed. Pete strokes the tip of a second finger around Patrick's entrance, like a question, sinking it home when Patrick nods, bathing in the noise he makes. He leans down and takes Patrick's mouth before the third one goes in, and when it does he drinks down Patrick's quivering moan.

Patrick clutches his hands around Pete's head, gripping and pressing him into the kiss desperately. He's writhing under Pete, breathing hard through his nose and moaning into his lips. When he reaches down and firms his hand around Pete's cock, slowly stroking it, Pete knows he's ready.

Its hell on earth to stop long enough to roll a condom on, but Patrick stroking lube over his sheathed dick is enough to bring him back.

Pete asks, "How do you want to...?" with a questioning hand gesture. Patrick lies back, hooking his hands around the backs of his knees to pull his legs up and Pete loses his breath completely.

"Okay, yeah. That works," he mutters and Patrick's grin in reply is hesitant but oh-so-wicked.

He crawls into the space Patrick's made for him, dick in his hand, reminding himself loudly that breathing is a _good_ thing. He leans down over Patrick, kissing him long and deep, resting his cock at Patrick's ass, the tip pressing at his opening.

"Fuck, Patrick," Pete pants, not sure what he was going to say, just needing to express _something_ because Patrick is kind of _amazing_. Patrick's face is flushed red and he's sweating and struggling for breath. His eyes are blown and hazy, but he's got that expression on his face, the thoughtful one he usually only gets when he's working on something tricky.

Pete gets stuck looking, moaning sharply when Patrick's fingers close around the base of Pete's dick, firmly pulling forwards, guiding Pete inside incrementally. Pete sucks in air and tries to focus, because fuck, all that heat and delicious pressure, plus the way Patrick is biting his lip, brow furrowed in concentration, it's too much.

Patrick's other hand takes a handful of Pete's ass and pulls forward, and that closes the last distance, pushing him to the hilt and the long satisfied moan he lets out is echoed by Patrick. He leans down and kisses him, long and searching and needy and Patrick gives it all back with lips, tongue and teeth.

Fuck, Pete's going to explode already, and he hasn't even started moving yet. He breaks his lips from Patrick's asking, "You ready?"

Patrick nods shakily, firming his grip on Pete's ass. "Yeah, come on," he says, voice raw, and that's all Pete needs. He slides out, watching Patrick the whole time, the way his lip trembles and his eyelids flutter. He pushes back in, just as slow and Patrick groans deep and throaty, clenching his fingers on Pete's ass and pulling him in.

"Fuck. _Fuck_. Pete," he gasps, his free hand fluttering up to lock at Pete's neck.

"You okay?" Pete asks, leaning his weight on one arm so he can find Patrick's dick and stroke it, his lubed fingers sliding easily over the hot flesh.

Patrick grunts out a few strangled noises before he manages to say, "More.". Pete takes Patrick's mouth again, kissing him deeply as he fucks him, so slowly it might send them both insane, keeping his grip on Patrick's cock firm and in time with his strokes.

It's not long before he's shaking with the effort of keeping his motion in check, sweat dotted all over him, mouth full of Patrick and his cock being squeezed by his body. Patrick breaks the kiss, panting into Pete's face. "Come on, I'm not gonna break. More."

Pete lets go, letting his body find the rhythm and Patrick's right there with him, in perfect step like when they're making music. He rides him, watching his face, listening to every breath and moan, burying himself in Patrick and breathing him in.

His orgasm builds with every push of his hips, gathering low and being fed by Patrick's moans, which leak out on each thrust. He clutches on to Pete, kissing him messily, hips shoving down on Pete's dick when he presses in. Pete gets lost in the sounds Patrick's making, hips moving on their own, feeling Patrick flex and shift under him, his fingers tightening on Pete's shoulders as his voice pitches higher and louder.

"Fuck, Trick-" he groans into Patrick's mouth.

"Yeah, fuck. _Fuck_ Pete," Patrick gasps out, his dick pulsing in Pete's hand, bucking up under him.

Pete hangs on as long as he can, gritting his teeth and waiting for Patrick to break first. He does, beautifully, letting out a strangled groan as he shoots his release between their bodies, his ass squeezing around Pete's dick and tipping Pete over too. Pete takes Patrick's mouth, groaning his own climax into their joined lips as his hips buck forwards, orgasm pulsing through him so hard it's like his heart's going to explode.

It crashes down on him and they ride it out together, clinging tight and kissing long and slow until Patrick's limp and panting beneath Pete, heart racing so hard Pete can feel it where their chests are pressed. He closes his eyes and soaks up the moment, waiting for his breathing to calm.

"Hey," Pete greets him when Patrick's eyes finally come open again, so dilated he can barely see the green.

"Hey." Patrick gives him a sleepy smile.

"So, that was kind of awesome." Pete grins down at him and Patrick hums in agreement, stretching like a cat and even that relaxed motion sets off a few over-stimulated sensors in Pete's still recovering body. He pulls out and rolls onto his back, getting rid of the condom as fast as his fucked-out body can handle, so he can get back to Patrick and curl around him.

Patrick's gone floppy, but he's not asleep. He rolls into Pete, tucking his head into Pete's neck and sighing. Pete strokes his hair, listening to Patrick's breath and for once he doesn't have anything to say.

His silence must be conspicuous because Patrick speaks up, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he rushes to answer. "Yeah of course... are you?" He leans up on an elbow, studying Patrick closely. "You feel... normal?"

Patrick looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he smiles, and it goes all the way to his eyes. "Yeah, actually. I think I'm better than normal."

Pete grins, because is he _ever_. He drops a kiss on Patrick's lips and pulls him close, reveling in the absolute perfection of the moment, right up until his stomach speaks up, loudly reminding him that he hasn't eaten since well before the Olympic sex marathon.

The gurgling noise sets Patrick snickering. "Do you think if I ordered pizza we could get them to bring it right to the bed? I so don't have the energy to get up."

"We could call Mikey. He'd bring it to us."

"Sure he would." Sarcasm is heavy in Patrick's voice.

"I could tell him it's a crisis," Pete argues, smothering his smile in Patrick's neck.

"A pizza crisis?"

"Mhmm. Could totally happen." Pete starts nibbling on Patrick's neck because it's _there_ and he needs to do something with his mouth.

"Yeah, I don't think we should be using up our favors with Mikeyway because you're too lazy to walk to the front door. We might need him for something real."

"Something real?" Pete asks, eyebrows shooting up.

A smile tugs at Patrick's mouth as he answers. "Well, you never know when we might need his help with something."

"He's a pretty resourceful guy," Pete adds, dropping a kiss on Patrick's smirking lips.

"Well he helped us out," Patrick agrees, still smiling and Pete's never going to get tired of looking at that.

"We should probably send him a fruit basket or something." Pete means it, he feels like he owes Mikey big time for this one.

"Hmm, yeah," Patrick agrees, fingers running up and down Pete's arm. "Pizza first. I'm fucking starving."

Pete rolls him back in to another tight hug, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"Sure babe," he agrees with a grin, running his finger down Patrick's cheek. "Whatever you want."

That's a promise.

 

~end


End file.
